


Harbour

by Elisexyz



Category: Godless (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Ficlet Collection, Fix-It, Gen, Roy Stays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21558211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Just a collection of short stories about Roy, Alice, Truckee and Iyovi being the adorable little family they are, in an AU in which Roy stayed.1. Stupidity.“What the hell was she saying?”2. Dance.“Ma’am—ma’am, I ain’t no dancer—”3. Question.“Tell me, son—have you got a papi?”4. Birthday.“What’s so important that you had to wake me in the dead of night, boy?”6. Quitting.“Would it be alright with you, if I stayed?”
Relationships: Alice Fletcher/Roy Goode, Roy Goode & Alice Fletcher & Truckee & Iyovi, Roy Goode & Iyovi, Roy Goode & Truckee
Comments: 83
Kudos: 89





	1. Stupidity (Roy & Alice & Iyovi)

**Author's Note:**

> I know that this show doesn't have many fans, but I'm writing these every now and then for my own amusement, so might as well put them out there just in case there is anybody else who loves these four. Some will be set in a post-canon AU, some during the show. They are not in chronological order and length will vary.  
>  I'm using [one of these sets](https://1sentenceorder.livejournal.com/1531.html) for prompts.  
>  Enjoy! (hopefully someone will <3)

He wakes up on a comfortable bed. Sure, there’s a burning pain at his side and he can confidently say there’s a good chance he almost died again, but at least he is on a bed and not rolling in the dirt. That’s progress.

Alice is at his bedside too, her forehead wrinkled by concentration as she reads something. He’d like to just lay silently for a while, not ruin the precious moment, but he ends up chocking on his own spit, which sends him on a coughing fit and immediately catches her attention.

She’s quick to supply him with water, pulling him up so that he can drink it a little more comfortably, and he regrets to notice that she looks frantic as she puts the pitcher away.

“Sorry,” he says, hoarsely, as she settles back on her chair.

She waves him off, taking a sharp breath as if to steady herself. “How are you feeling?” she asks, sitting up straighter and mustering up an expression of polite concern.

He shrugs, because he doesn’t really know what he could say. He has been shot before, so that isn’t new. He has had worse too, judging solely by how much pain he’s in. This is the first time, though, that he can say to himself that he has finally rid the world of Frank Griffin.

What does one do, once they have achieved their biggest goal?

Iyovi joins them then, carrying fresh water with her and giving him a pointed look when she notices that he is awake. She says something to Alice, her tone as gruff as it generally seems to be around him, and it is slightly unnerving to witness them having a conversation that is most likely about him, judging by the glances, and not be able to understand a word, but he’s kind of gotten used to the feeling.

Eventually, Iyovi mutters something to herself, then she proceeds to leave the water to Alice and come up next to him. Before he can so much as open his mouth, she slaps him in the head, saying something that sounds a lot like a string of insults before walking away.

Roy blinks at her, his hand distractedly going up to his head.

“What the hell was she saying?” he eventually asks, a little wide-eyed, turning to Alice.

She grins fondly. “She said—that you’d better stop being stupid and attempting to die on us, because you are starting to give her too many white hairs.”

Oh.

Well.

That’s a much nicer sentiment than he would have ever guessed.

(He has precisely _no_ idea what to do with that.)

Silence falls for a while, then Alice shifts uncomfortably, catching his attention as she begins: “Hey, uhm—” She presses her lips together, her eyes darting around for a moment before fixating back on him. “I too hope you are not going to make an habit out of this.” She hesitates for a long second. “If you are staying, that is.”

He opens his mouth, something tugging at his chest and his flight instinct doing its best to kick in. He swallows something thick, and as he looks at her and he thinks of the wonderful family she has here and that sometimes has felt a little bit like his too, he selfishly doesn’t want to let it go just yet.

“If you’ll have me, ma’am,” he only gets out, quietly, a part of him muttering that it’s the wrong choice, for them more than for him.

(When she smiles, though, bright and somehow _grateful_ for the answer, that voice is quickly silenced.)


	2. Dance (Roy/Alice)

“Ma’am— _ma’am_ , I ain’t no dancer—”

His hesitant protests get mercilessly ignored, Alice grabbing his hands and pulling him towards the festive crowd. He stumbles on his feet, scrambling to follow her in spite of the panic he can’t quite conceal.

“ _Alice_ —” he tries again, almost pleading, because town’s festivities are not really for _him_ – they are not exactly for her either, but Truckee needs to socialize with other kids and eventually it seems that she had little choice but trying to enjoy herself a little – and he’d probably give a couple of fingers to go back and choose to stay home with Iyovi.

But there’s a radiant smile on Alice’s face, making her look so young and unburdened that he’s stuck for a second, the idea of stepping away and ruining the moment for her unfathomable in his head.

So he stays, and he tries to dance.

(She doesn’t stop grinning even as he steps on her feet, fortunately.)


	3. Question (Roy & Truckee)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is set in 1x07. Enjoy!

Roy is too far out to hear him ask the question, but it echoes in his head all the same. Frank is grabbing Truckee’s shoulder, probably tight enough that it almost hurts, in a way that’s disturbingly grounding, a smile barely hidden as he asks: “Tell me, son—have you got a papi?”

He doesn’t. Truckee’s dad died time ago, he’s a lost boy yearning for guidance badly enough that he latched onto a criminal like him. He no doubt would make an excellent victim for Frank.

Not so long as _he_ has any say in the matter, though.

(He might not be the boy’s father, but right now he thinks he can presume to know what the man would have wanted.)

“Leave him be, Frank,” he calls out, his voice firm in a way that the rest of him doesn’t know how to be. He barely listens as Frank speaks, taunting and still so _fatherly_ , his knees wobbling and his hands itching as if he could reach out for Truckee all the way down there.

He's too far, and Frank has taken his gun.

“Truckee, you come on up here now,” Roy calls, short of breath and all too aware that he needs Frank to _let_ him, otherwise—

It doesn’t feel like he can breathe, not until Truckee is in front of him, still alive under his fingers, looking too shaken to even be terrified, not even giving a proper answer as he tries to ask if he is alright.

“There’s a nice flat spot down here,” Frank calls out.

Roy is left staring at him for a few moments, unsure about what he is supposed to feel. It’s the moment he has been waiting for so long, his final chance at ending this the proper way, and yet—yet something in him doesn’t really want to. His hand hasn’t left the side of Truckee’s neck, and for a second he doesn’t think he can let go.

(It doesn’t appear like he has much of a choice.)

“I want you to get on my horse,” he says, frantic as he can physically feel time running out, so many words pushing to come out and the practical man in him thankfully taking charge. “I want you to ride straight home, alright?” he continues, eyes fixated in Truckee’s, hesitating only a fraction of second before he pulls away, because he can see it on the boy’s face that he doesn’t want to, that he’s scared and he doesn’t want to leave. “And don’t turn back either, go _on_ ,” he adds, quickly, patting him on the arm as a push.

Truckee slips away, Roy’s eyes fixated on him for a few moments more than it’s wise – there’s a chance the boy might turn back after all, and what would he say then? –, wanting to fixate that image in his head so he doesn’t have to die thinking of Frank’s ugly mug.

Then he turns away, shoulders set and something settling in him at the thought that, no matter what, this is the end.


	4. Birthday (Roy & Truckee + Iyovi)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate! (No, this ficlet has nothing to do with the holidays, but still XD)

He wakes with a startle, his hands itching for a pistol that he has imposed on himself not to keep by the bed, because he doesn’t need it, and no one in this family needs to have it around either.

It takes a moment or two too many for Truckee to come into focus, standing beside his bed with a candle in his hands, one palm sheltering the flame to not make too much light.

Roy squeezes his eyes, alarm creeping up under his skin, because a visit at night-time can hardly be a good thing. “Truckee?” He gives him a quick onceover, his mind struggling to make the quickest assessment possible, and finding nothing amiss. “Are you—?”

“Shh,” Truckee immediately interrupts him, gesturing with his head to Alice, asleep in the bed at the other end of the room. “Come with me,” he adds then, in a whisper.

Roy scrambles to obey, his heart beating a little too fast still as he follows Truckee outside, in the direction of the barn.

When they get there, Iyovi is already waiting, and Roy isn’t exactly sure if it’s a good or a bad sign that the grandmother is involved, really.

“What’s so important that you had to wake me in the dead of night, boy?” Roy asks, a little too gruffly, maybe.

Truckee only grins. “It’s a family reunion!” he explains, lightly. “For Mom’s birthday, we need a plan—”

(Roy doesn’t hear the first few words that follow, stuck on _family_.)


	5. Nowhere (Roy & Iyovi)

It’s still tempting, sometimes. He’ll watch the horizon, the line where land and sky meet, and he’ll feel his feet itch, hyperaware as he is of how easy it would be to grab a horse – _his_ horse – and ride away without a word of farewell.

He’d just have to keep his eyes from lingering on the house, always pulling him back with invisible but insisting strength, to keep his thoughts from latching onto how much he longs to keep these people _close_ —sometimes, he loves them so much it’s overwhelming, and fleeing seems the easiest, most comfortable solution.

He has learnt that song my heart, after all, the ballad of Roy Goode the outlaw, thief belonging to nowhere and no one. Sometimes he wonders if he couldn’t slide back into that like one would into old, comfortable shoes. If it wouldn’t be easier, for everyone.

He turns around when he feels observed, because with no words ever exchanged directly between him and Iyovi it has become somewhat of a second nature to pick up on when she’s requesting his attention.

He finds her at the door, arms crossed and a deep frown on her face, and he knows somewhere in his gut that she _knows_.

 _You’re not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?_ he can almost hear her ask.

Roy shakes his head, drawing in a sharp breath and turning his full body towards the house.

“Quit looking at me like that, I ain’t going nowhere,” he protests, gruffly, heading towards her with big steps and not a glance back to the horizon.

He’s pretty sure that, as he walked past her and into the house, he caught a smile flickering on her face.


	6. Quitting (Roy & Truckee)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set post 1x07, some time after the first ficlet of the series.

Truckee has been avoiding him.

It’s a little hurtful, but not too surprising: the fact that the boy made sure that he didn’t bleed to his death hardly means anything, he’s a good boy, of course he didn’t let him die — Roy still remembers the hurt on his face and the _hatred_ in his voice when he damned him to hell, and he has to wonder if he still means it.

In that case, no matter what anybody else says, he’ll take a horse and just go.

Still a little unsure on his feet, though mostly healed, Roy makes his way to the well, where Truckee is supposed to be getting the water.

When he sees him, he stops short on his tracks, looking a little too wary for Roy not to feel like shit about it.

“Would it be alright with you, if I stayed?” he asks, straight to the point because he can hardly take much waiting, and the boy doesn’t seem to feel warmly enough about him to be interested in small talk, even if Roy were any good at it.

Truckee presses his lips together, looking at him straight in the eye, shoulders set as if to appear bigger. “That depends,” he says. “ _Are_ you going to stay?”

Roy opens his mouth to say that yes, of course he is, that that’s what he just said, but he doesn’t have the time.

“Because you don’t get to just quit this family — not again,” Truckee warns, sharp and reprimanding enough to turn his stomach over.

“I don’t mean to,” he can only promise, his voice a little tight and his eyes burning. “You have my word, Truckee.”

The smile that that answer gains him is a little tentative, but Roy is unspeakably grateful for it.


	7. War (Roy/Alice)

Some nights, he emerges from the depths of his own personal wars, his breeches dump with sweat and a whimper stuck in his throat, only wishing for unreachable safety and remaining paralyzed with terror for a few moments.

The feeling is familiar, but in no way comforting, and it takes him a small eternity to ground himself enough to recognize the shape of the room, of his _home_ , for his shoulders to relax as he can assign a name to the woman still asleep in his bed.

Alice, back turned on him and hair sprawled all over the pillow, doesn’t stir as he sits up, not even as he tentatively reaches out, running his fingers through her hair and feeling his skin tingle at the solid proof that she’s _real_.

Every time, she reminds him that there are still good things left in the world, and that some of those, for reasons beyond his comprehension, he has been allowed to keep for himself.


	8. Breaking (Roy & Truckee)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm still here! Your lovely feedback reminded me that I have this going on, so thanks for that <3 This one is set in 1x06, when Roy decides to leave, I hope you will enjoy it!

It was foolish of him to hope for a quiet goodbye, for _understanding_ , even.

Roy knows that he is doing the right thing, but for all that he might tell himself that Truckee can’t have grown _that_ attached to him, that he was but a fleeting influence in the boy’s life, that he will be just fine without him, there is no mistaking the pain in his eyes, the wounded look hiding behind burning anger.

Truckee lashes out, spits his attempt at a gentle parting words right back in his face, and the only thing that Roy can see is a boy wailing because he is being abandoned. He understands that hurt, he feels it vibrate deep in his bones, and when Truckee leaves something in him just _breaks_ , regret, sorrow and longing all mixing together as he can’t quite stifle a sob.

He never meant for this, he never meant to _hurt_ him — the truth is, he never should have gotten close in the first place. There was no way for this to end happily. It was selfish to even try to have it.

Yet, even now, as he faces the fact that he has only brought pain in Truckee’s life, he has to turn around, trying to pull himself back together and suffocate the longing, the fierce desire to run after him and take everything back, make promises he can’t possibly keep.

Truckee _will_ be just fine, he _will_ forget all about him — but for now, he’s hurting and he’s angry and, knowing that, Roy can’t breathe.


	9. Comfort (Roy/Alice)

He’s soaked. The drops of rain pouring on his head are big enough to hurt, the cold has penetrated so deeply into his bones that he only knows he still has functioning feet because he can hear them sink in the mud, and part of him _really_ regrets not seeking shelter somewhere as soon as the first thunders could be heard. When the ranch is finally in sight, he could honestly start weeping in relief.

He barges not too gracefully through the door, quickly closing it behind him so that the chill won’t creep in, and he barely has time to take notice of the warmth and beautiful _dryness_ inside that Alice comes up to him in quick strides. He blinks a few drops of rain away and takes in the worried lines on her forehead, the unhappy turn of her mouth.

“I was about to come _looking_ for you,” she reprimands, her tone hard and her eyes avoiding his. She begins unbuttoning his shirt. “Out of these, come on, you’ll catch your death.”

“Sorry,” Roy mutters, quick to help getting his clothes out of the way, because they _are_ soaked and thoroughly unpleasant against his frozen skin. The sooner they are off him, the better.

Truckee comes up with a cloth for him to dry his hair with, and, as soon as he’s left in his smallclothes, Iyovi is quick to wrap a warm blanket around him. He sighs in relief, offering a quick but grateful smile as he tightens it around his shoulders.

Alice, having left his damp clothes in a bundle next to the door, places herself in front of him once again, rubbing his shoulders through the blanket and shaking her head in disapproval that masks worry. He knows she tends to jump to the worst conclusion every time, that there’s always a voice, in the back of her head, taunting that if it happened once it could very well happen again.

His first instinct is to apologize again and to offer reassurance, but he knows it wouldn’t do much, that she needs a minute to collect herself first. Tonight, she will hold onto him tighter than usual and not let go until morning, and the best thing that he can do to help is let her.

“I’ll fix you something warm,” she says, her eyes finally raising on his face for a beat and a small smile on her lips. Her hand lingers on his cheek for a few moments, a light warm touch that he leans into without meaning to, then she’s gone in little more than a blink.

_Later tonight_ , he reminds himself, smothering the urge to go after her.


	10. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Okay, so, I have once again come back to add something to this, but, having realized that it’s unlikely that I’ll write as many ficlets as I initially planned to, I’ve decided to add two fics this time around (check out the nineth chapter if you’ve missed it!) and mark this collection as complete with ten chapters, because ten is a nice round number and I felt bad about having this story incomplete. If I get another random surge of inspiration I will add more to this, but in the meantime at least it’s not sitting there and judging me LOL.  
>  Thank you very much for all your kind comments, this is a tiny but lovely fandom <3 I hope you will enjoy these (last?) two ficlets as much as the others!

It sneaks up on him on a quiet day, with soft rain outside forcing them all into the house.

Iyovi is sitting on a chair, a candle lit next to her and some clothes that need mending on her lap. She’s silent, with the exception of the unhappy grumbling under her breath whenever she pinches her fingers in the not ideal light. Truckee is scrubbing some pots that needed a good clean, his tongue sticking out in concentration, as if it were the most important of tasks and deserved his full attention, whereas Roy and Alice have been peeling potatoes for what feels like an eternity.

It's not _fun_ , it’s certainly not something that should inspire thoughts of _happiness_ , yet—yet it’s so quiet and comfortable, no tension in his body indicating readiness to fight or flee at a moment’s notice, affection choking him whenever he lays eyes on any of these people that have accepted him into their family, against all good sense.

He feels _content_ , in a way that has grown familiar while he wasn’t looking, and only now he realizes just how much he’s settled into his new life, how _his_ the corner that they’ve carved for him into their home feels.

_I have this—I want to_ keep _this_ , he realizes fully for the first time, unbounded joy battling with a surge of fear, because he’s never had a family he’d dread to lose so much, he’s never had a life so dear to him that he couldn’t freely toy with death.

He does now. It’s wonderful, terrifying and, he already has no doubt, entirely worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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